“You were probably right to get away,” Mama continued. She plucked the comb from my fingers and slipped it into my hair. “Six girls didn’t pass this year. There were fights among the boys.”
My breath caught. Havamal had mentioned Vigdis, but who were the others? Six. Every year for the past decade, fewer and fewer girls had passed the mage’s test. Some whispered that the next would be our last generation unless we moved. I crossed my arms over my stomach. If it came to it, would the king force me?
“Havamal came after me today,” I whispered. The comb seemed to burn against my scalp. “He followed me to that wreck we used to go to as kids. You know, the one just past the estuary.”
Mama nodded. “He told me what happened there.”
He’d told my mother? That seemed like a betrayal, too. Havamal had known Mama all his life, but the things we’d said to each other in the ship should have stayed private.
“I don’t know what to do.” My voice wobbled, and boiling tears made me wince as they burned my cheeks. “Have you ever wished you could leave? Have you ever wished there was somewhere else we could go?”
She shrugged and picked up a stray piece of netting from my floor. “My job as weaver isn’t unbearable. But there’s pressure on you I never had to face. In my year, only one failed. It was hard when your father died, but now I’m old enough that no one considers me as a possible mate.”
“Will the king… will he make me?” I asked. The fear of being forced felt like a thousand shark teeth closing on my heart. But with six failures… Mama had wanted me to talk to the mage about going to the sea god’s court. I’d feared that would be swapping one bad situation for another, but maybe I should have done it. After all, I didn’t know life at Aegir’s court would be miserable.
Mama pulled me closer. Her jaw stiffened. “Not while I’m living.”
I leaned my head against her shoulder, but, even as her words reassured me, a knot twisted in my stomach. If I were anything like Ragna, I’d stand up to the king instead of fantasizing about the day I could make my escape. I’d fight him, rather than rely on my mother’s protection.
Sitting up again, I tugged Havamal’s comb from my hair and studied it. The rows of boats taunted me. Once upon a time, I’d thought Havamal would carve out my future as easily as he’d etched his flawless design into the coral. Maybe that was why I resented him so much now. Day by day, he built a future for himself in a place that would turn me into a prisoner. I needed to do something to ensure my own future instead of relying on everyone else to build a life for me. Don’t be afraid to jump, Ragna had said, and she was right. I just wished I knew where to leap.
Six
In the morning, I awoke to silence in the glacier. The usual hum of people starting the day was absent. Doubtless, everyone was still sleeping after yesterday’s feast and the drinking that always followed. Swinging my fins carefully off my shelf, I moved like a ghost to the wooden chest. I knew that drinking sometimes made people extra sensitive to noise, and life was easier when everyone ignored me.
I opened the chest and took out the two objects that fascinated me most: an oblong bone, hollowed and decorated with silver, and a metal ring far too big for my bicep, open at one side and pierced with holes. No matter how often I looked at these objects, I could never understand what a human would use them for. My heart sped up with glee; my fingers danced over the silver engravings. Today, I would finally find answers and with them, some insight into other worlds.
For my last birthday, Mama had made me a satchel with weaving so tight that even water couldn’t pass between the strands of kelp. I stuffed the human objects inside, concealing the gleaming silver from view. Then I swam into the crisp morning sea. The water near the surface was fresh and soft from the falling rain. With less of the harsh salt that dried my fins, the rainwater was a gentle caress. I spread my arms, trying to feel the water on as many parts of my body as I could.
During a storm, the seals always hid in their snow lairs, so the birds swam brazenly around the edges of the glacier. Just overhead, I could see the undersides of seabirds, floating like tiny ships bobbing on the waves. The birds’ spindly legs propelled them as they looked for fish drawn to the surface by the splashing of the raindrops.
Chuckling to myself, I blew a stream of air upward. The seagulls flapped their wings, fighting with each other to attack the ripple that broke the surface.
Most of the belugas were sleeping when I reached their surfacing point. The whales lolled from side to side near the surface, drifting as the motion of the sea pushed them. I slipped between them as carefully as I could, trying not to brush against them. One of the juveniles nuzzled me sleepily as I passed him, and I stopped to rub his chin. With a twinge of sadness, I realized that if I left, with or without Havamal, I’d miss these whales more than any of the merfolk in the glacier—except Mama.
I hoisted myself over the lip of the ice. The winds were strong today and ice dust blew into my eyes. Squinting into the horizon, I saw that Ragna had begun work on her sea craft. A small boat was upside down with the hull facing the sky. Nothing remained of her makeshift shelter and, for a gut-wrenching moment, I wondered if the rain had washed her into the sea.
Leaving my satchel at the edge of the water, I scrambled toward the hull on my belly. Jagged ridges of ice nicked my fins, but I pulled myself forward anyway. There was a gap between the rim of the boat and the surface of the ice. I flattened myself on my stomach and peered in. Eyes tightly shut, Ragna was huddled amongst her belongings. Her clothes and furs were soaked through, and her skin looked gray with frost. Even in sleep, she shivered. Her slender form looked more fragile than ever. How long had she been this cold?
Grunting with effort, I lifted the hull and slipped under. Even half-dead with cold, Ragna moved faster than I could blink. Freezing metal pressed against the back of my neck. She studied me in the dimness before lowering her knife with a shuddering breath. “Sorry. I just reacted…”
With a shiver, I wondered when she had learned to sleep with a knife beneath her head. Swallowing hard, I nodded, folding my tail inside the little ship before lowering it over us. “Why are you under here?”